


Zlatan Ibrahimović Oneshots

by nixiswriting



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Dating, F/M, Familiy, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-11-09 00:12:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11092848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nixiswriting/pseuds/nixiswriting
Summary: A collection of romantic oneshots featuring Zlatan Ibrahimović and Original Female Character/s.





	1. HHWW

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The story is fictional.

When you are in a new relationship, all you want to do is cuddle. All you want to do is kiss. All you want to do is hold hands. All youwant to do is partake in some PDA with your boyfriend.

But when you are in public and your boyfriend is a well-known football player who literally, at a meter 95cm, stands out in the crowd, you can’t do any of those things. 

“You’re doing it again, sweetheart.” Zlatan says as we continue to walk through the mall. His lips were upturned in a smile.

“Hm? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I say innocently, looking away.

“Just take my hand if you want to.” He says wiggling his fingers and I slap his arm playfully. 

“Stop it. Someone might see.” I say, putting some space between us.

“Sweetheart, a beautiful woman is walking with Zlatan Ibrahimović at a mall. Do you think they’re thinking  _‘Look at Zlatan and his_ platonic _friend.’_?”

“Fine, then. You take my hand.” I dare him and of course, being who he was, he just took it without a care of the rest of the world. 

“Oh Zlatan!” I try to pull my hand away, looking around to see if anyone was looking at us. We hadn’t come out as a couple, no one except our closest family and friend knew of our relationship and now that we were in England, I don’t know how to handle the Media. 

Instead of stopping, he drapes an arm around my shoulders. 

“You’ve been looking at my hand since we started shopping. You’re giving me those googly lovey-dovey eyes. Those _longing_ eyes. So now we’re going to watch a movie, and we’re going to make out like teenagers in the dark cinema. Media won’t be taking pictures of us in the dark Cinema right?” He said and I couldn’t help but giggle. “This head is more than just a pretty head meant for hitting header goals.” 

Zlatan and his commandeering nature could be such a pain at times, but there are times when I don’t mind - especially if it leads to making out.

“Fine. Let’s go.” I say and squeeze his hand. I got what I wanted.

**_[end]_ **

 

 

 _note:_ HHWW _stands for_ Holding Hands While Walking


	2. The Perfect Gift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: This story is fictional. I originally wrote and posted this back in September 2016.

Zlatan Ibrahimović wasn’t the most romantic of men. To him, romance was buying his girlfriend luxury items - jewels, bags, clothing. But after his girlfriend off-handedly mentioned that all the gifts made her feel as if he was buying her affection, he had to rethink his notion of romance. And his gift for his first anniversary with his girlfriend.

He asked his teammate, as discreetly as possible, mentioning a far away cousin needing help in the love repertoire, what one should do as a romantic gesture.

The suggestions they gave left a bitter taste on Zlatan’s tongue. All they were suggesting were overly mushy and embarrassing; like hiring one of those planes that could write in the sky; or making a fool of himself in public to confess his love for her (which she already knew).

He did think that a vacation with just them in a far away and remote area was a good idea, but his schedule wouldn’t permit that at this moment. He thought about renting one of the most exclusive restaurants in town but again, he felt like that wouldn’t be enough.

 

“Make her something. Something special that is only for her.” His sister had suggested over the phone when he called for some advice.

“Like my shirt but with her name?” He asked.

“No. Something more important.”

“I always dedicate my goals to her; and all my victories.”

“Something more sentimental. Something that she could take out, and enjoy. Something that will remind her of you and know that you made it for her and her alone.”

“You’re not suggesting I impregnate her are you?” He asked.

“You’re an idiot. I don’t know what Meera sees in you.” His sister said and promptly ended the call after telling him to figure it out.

 

Zlatan felt like his sister only confused him more. So he went to the internet to find the answer to his problem. According to an article he read, a perfect gift to convey his feelings would be something _DIY_ ; that shows the effort and hard work and love one put in the gift. The first few options felt a little ridiculous in his mind - picture frame, a scrapbook, a mixed tape.

But one caught his attention - a knit piece of clothing. It would be perfect for the cold seasons about to start. If he can’t be there to keep her warm, a scarf would be perfect. It’d be as if he was with her always. There was only one problem : he did not know how to knit.

He opened another tab and checked any tutorial videos on youtube.

 

For their anniversary the couple decided to stay home, opting to stay away from possible paparazzi lurking in the streets just waiting to get a picture of Zlatan on a night out. After their dinner, Zlatan excused himself to get her gift. He returned with a box and a paper bag in his hands; and a sheepish look on his face.

“You bought me two gifts! Babe that’s too much!”

“Uh, actually.” He looked uncomfortable and Meera started getting worried. “I bought you one gift. I…I made the other.”

“You _made_ it?” She asked confused, at his statement but also curious.

“I don’t want you thinking that all I do is buy you things without thinking. I wanted to convey you all my love.” He said getting red in the face. He had no intentions of getting so mushy but once the words came out, there was no stopping. “I love you and I wanted to show you just how much…by making you something.”

Meera could feel emotions welling up in her. She had a huge smile and could barely contain her excitement. While she appreciated all the gifts he gave her, they always seemed a little cold.

He reluctantly held out the box and she eagerly accepted and opened it. Inside was a cream colored knit scarf. It wasn’t perfect but it looked good, and it felt soft.

“It’s not perfect. Youtube tutorials can only help you so far, and no one else I know knows how to knit.” He explained.

She took it out and ran her hands through the thick soft material.

“It’s ugly, I know. So I bought you an actual scarf you can use.” He said handing her a Burberry bag.

She shook her head, not accepting the second gift. While she knew that a Burberry scarf would feel amazing, the material used 100 times better than plain wool; that the design would be a classic and perfect for her trenchcoat; she wouldn’t exchange her one of a kind Zlatan Ibrahimović made scarf. It might not be perfect but so was he and she loved that.

She draped the scarf once around her neck then over his shoulders. “It’s perfect. I love it; I love you.” She said, kissing him.

He placed his big hands on her lower back and scrutinized her, seeing if she was lying as to not hurt his feelings.

“Really? You think so?”

“Yep. It’s just what I need; and when I’m out and about, I’ll fee as if you were with me.”

“It’s not so pretty.”

“Says who? _I_ think it’s pretty!” She said. “And that’s the opinion that counts the most, right.”

“Right.” He said. “When people ask where you got that scarf, please don’t tell them it’s from me.”

“Oh stop it!” She playfully smacks his chest.

_[end]_


	3. Things you said after you kissed me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things you said after you kissed me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Story is fictional.

The date was going perfectly. Somehow, Zlatan and I were able to easily leave the _friend_ zone for the _dating_ zone. The dinner was perfect, the food was great, the conversation was entertaining and I loved getting to know more of him.

After dinner, we took a long walk around the neighborhood and got some gelato. The romantic, he even bought me a rose from one of the passing-by vendors.

He drove me home and insisted seeing me off to the door.

There we stalled, standing in front of the other waiting for a sign…for something.

And then he leaned in and gave me the tenderest kiss. Perfect for the end of a third date.

But I wanted just a little more. I went on my tip toes and kissed him. This seemed to encourage him to step closer and cup the back of my neck, angling my head in the perfect way to deepen the kiss. I feel a hand of his slide to my lower back, pulling me even closer.

I participate in the kiss eagerly and my arms wind around his neck, holding for dear life.  

“Wow.” Zlatan whispered when the kiss ended.

I couldn’t agree more. That kiss was just…wow. The first of what hopefully would be one of many _wow_ -worthy kisses.

**_[end]_ **


	4. Protective Brother (Feat. Paul Pogba)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zlatan is the protective big brother who just realized his lil sister is dating a teammate of his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Story is fiction. Initially posted this around the time of their transfer to Utd.

“What are your intentions with Grace?” Zlatan Ibrahimović asked looking down at the Frenchman. He was standing at his full 1 meter 95cm; his arms crossed, putting his bulging biceps in display; his face menacing and his eyes reading every move of Manchester United’s new number 6, Paul Pogba.

“Beh, io…io…” Paul was racking his mind how to respond properly. He and Zlatan had always spoken to each other in English, never Italian; but this Zlatan was different from the Zlatan he saw in training. This was an angry Zlatan Ibrahimović who caught Paul Pogba with his hands under Grace Seger’s shirt, making out in Zlatan Ibrahimović’s living room.

“Zlatan! This is ridiculous! Stop it!” Grace said as she redialed her cousin -  Helena’s - number. Only Helena could stop Zlatan Ibrahimović; the world’s best defense has nothing on Helena when it comes to stopping an angry Zlatan.

“We will talk later!” Zlatan said in Swedish. “Go to your room!”

“I am not Max or Vincent. Don’t tell me what to do.” Grace replied; standing her ground. The first thing Zlatan did when he came home to find Paul Pogba making out with Grace was pull the younger guy off the girl and set Grace several feet away from the Frenchman.

“Grace!” Zlatan growled.

“Zlatan!” She stomped her foot and glared at the older man.

“Hey, don’t talk to her like - ” Paul tried to stand up and come between Grace and Zlatan but he was easily pushed back on the couch by the angry older man.

“Paul!” Grace tried to reach his side but Ibra was quick to put his hand up, telling her to back off.

“What are your intentions towards Grace.” Zlatan repeated in English. “What? Answer me!”

“Zlatan stop it. Please!” Grace begged, pulling at his arm. “Zlatan.”

Grace and Paul have been fooling around for a bit, and have gone on a date or two or three since she transferred to Manchester from London to be closer to Helena and the family, after Zlatan moved from Paris to Manchester. They have yet to have the talk about the labels. The _L-word_ hasn’t been used yet. She knew what Zlatan could do to guys he deemed unworthy of her time; she quite liked Paul’s face.

“Zlatan stop it!” Grace said. “Hello? Helena!” She said to her phone. “Come quick! Your husband is crazy!”

“I like her. I like her a lot Zlatan.” Paul said and Grace was frozen on the spot hearing him say that.

“You’re going to need to be a lot more sappy than that to stop this fist from connecting to your face.” Zlatan said. “She is my baby sister. She doesn’t need to waste time on fuck boys like you.” Zlatan said.

He knew exactly how boys thought; and that was what Paul was - a boy. He thought with his dick and was fast on his feet when things got rough. If Zlatan could prevent Grace from ever suffering from a broken heart; he was going to punch every guy that came to close to her.

Grace wasn’t his blood sister but he had always treated her as so. She was Helena’s cousin. The two had a big age gap but Helena loved the girl to pieces; she always considered Grace as a younger sister, and Grace had always idolized Helena. Zlatan remembered Helena making a big deal out of him meeting Grace and that Grace’s approval was the only approval Zlatan needed in the world to date her. Grace had been reluctant of Zlatan. She had always thought Helena should only settle for a prince; a duke at the least. But if a prince or a duke wasn’t around to put the blinding smile on her cousin’s face then Zlatan Ibrahimović would do.

Zlatan had always loved Grace, ever since she had said on the very first night they met that Helena shouldn’t settle for just a poor good for nothing football player. He agreed. Helena deserved the world, so he would give it to her. Grace was spunky, brave, outspoken. She reminded Zlatan of his Helena. He couldn’t not love her.

Her honorary status as Zlatan’s younger sister was cemented even more when she spent time with them when Zlatan was in AC Milan and Grace was looking at a future career in fashion. Alexandre Pato made the mistake of looking at Grace a moment too long and got kicked by the Swede ‘accidentally’ on the head during training along with a stern talk about checking out barely legal girls.

“I…love her?” Paul said.

“That didn’t sound very convincing,” Zlatan said, pulling his arm back as if to strike.

Zlatan fell to his knees when Grace kicked him behind the knees.

“Grace! I’m trying to sort this guy out! Stop it!” Zlatan said trying to cover his head from Grace’s long nails.”

“Zlatan you can’t keep doing this!”

“I like spending time with her.” Paul said, his voice raised above the raucous the Swedes were doing. “She makes me happy. And she likes me. And I think I make her happy.” Paul told Zlatan.

Grace who had jumped on Zlatan’s back in hopes to pull him away as far as possible from Paul froze; and so did the Swede international.

“Do I love her?” Paul looked at Grace, her hair messy due to the scuffle. He smiled, finding that he was still attracted to her. “I could. I love her spunk. I love how she’s trying to defend me against a guy who’s 1 foot taller than her.”

Grace let the surprised Zlatan go and threw herself at the Frenchman who easily caught her and gave her a sheepish smile after that confession.

“I could love you too Paul.” She said before cupping his face and kissing him passionately.

“Stop it. Stop it.” Zlatan said but the young couple ignored him. “I said stop it.” He pulled Grace off.

She couldn’t be bothered by Zlatan; she just kept looking longingly at Paul who was smiling at her.

Zlatan sighed loudly. “Are you sure you like this guy.” He asked Grace. “Look at him. _Look_ at _him!_ That hair! And look at those shoes!” Zlatan said with clear disgust. He thought Paul Pogba was a fashion mistake. 

“I think he’s creative for trying new things and brave for doing something no one else does.” Grace says.

“Grace; re-consider,” Zlatan said.

“If I can’t have Prince Harry, I think Paul Pogba will do.” She said, giving him a wide smile. Paul wasn't entirely pleased to know he had competition for Grace’s attention.

“Let me call Buckingham Palace.” Zlatan said.

Grace just laughed and Zlatan sighed.

“Zlatan Ibrahimović!!” The angry bellowing of Helena from the entrance echoed throughout the large house.

_[end]_


End file.
